Waking Up With a Human Tragedy
by CrypticButterfly
Summary: Eddie used to love mornings. Emphasis on 'used to'. Leave it to a stupid ball of goo to make them pleasant again... SymBrock if you squint. Squint away. (M for language)


**Waking Up With a Human Tragedy**

Eddie used to really enjoy mornings. A fluffy if not slightly lumpy pillow beneath his head, a cool comforter keeping the outside world at bay, the delightful scent of coffee brewing in the air...simply perfection. And when Annie walked in to hand him a warm mug and press a kiss to his cheek in greeting? That made all the difference when about to face the realities of day to day life.

Of course, all of those things were far into the past now. Eddie rather missed them, in fact, over the past six months the mornings were the roughest part to adjust to. Making his _own_ coffee? Waking _himself_ up for work? Ugh, first world problems to the extreme. The lack of human interaction to boost himself up before entering the world had to be the absolute _worst_ part of all. He missed those sweet goodbyes and farewell kiss more than anything...

He began to believe bland coffee and absent noises were all that would ever be in store for him, and really, he sort of did bring it upon his self. Getting your fiancee fired from her job? A job she _really_ loved? Yeah, no, a scratchy bed and smelly pillow coupled with a tasteless beverage were probably the least of the consequences he faced. Still, being without a daily income and having to actually _take care of himself_ for once were weirdly the one consequence that bothered him the most.

Fuck all of it. Eddie was a fucking tragedy of an adult who was hitting the point of needing a damn _teddy_ to cuddle to feel half normal again.

No really, _fuck all of it_.

Those bastards with twinkly gaudy rings on their fingers didn't know what they had.

Eddie understood this. He was once one of those.

Anyway, mornings sucked and Eddie had gotten to the point of waking up _super_ early to just avoid them all together. Mornings didn't happen until the sun rose, right? Thus if one woke up _before_ that happened it could still be considered night and Eddie _totally wasn't thinking this to make himself feel better_. God no.

That would just be pathetic.

/

So this slimy goop of alien slime comes along, right, and decides Eddie's body is the right _perfect_ fit to catch a ride in. Didn't bother to ask, that would be asking for too much, and Eddie was stuck with an irritating ball of goop that lived in his stomach and seemed to _never shut up_. All it did was talk, seriously, and Eddie couldn't even put earplugs in to ignore it, no, because the damn thing talked to him _in his brain_ and didn't understand the silence is golden thing.

What a dick.

They go and save the world, because what else does one do with an alien that shares their body? The gooey mess actually liked this messed up chunk of rock and the messed up chunk of flesh know as _Eddie_ for some unknown reason, doing a total 180 on the hole 'destroy and eat all of humanity' plan it had less than a _day_ ago, bloody capricious asshole that it was.

Then it goes and gets itself _blown up_ in a ridiculously over the top explosion usually reserved for redneck fourth of July's and Michael Bay movies. Boom. Gone.

And god damn it Eddie found he had become rather fond of the slime known as Venom. He, it, _whatever_ , actually turned out to be rather good company and didn't take the piss for nothing, and hell, Eddie needed someone like that in his life now that Annie wasn't there to wrangle his -as stated- tragedy of a life in. Eddie would miss the smack talk. The undesired romps across bleeding skyscrapers in the dark. _The alien love for chocolate_.

Eddie might as well have dunked himself in a tank of liquid fondness with how much Venom now meant to him.

Yuck.

Whatever, Venom blew up and Eddie just _knew_ his life would go back to stale coffee, annoying sharpies that gave out right when he needed them, and tons of loneliness.

The real American Dream.

Yay.

/

Eddie woke up in a hospital with a killer headache doing construction on the inside of his skull and the smell of burnt flesh in his nostrils. Probably _his_ flesh the only part of his brain currently online informed him. Baby blue eyes snapped open and there had been a lot of yelling on his part because _a rocket had fucking exploded over him okay_. Three nurses and one cop built in the rough shape of a mountain ended up manhandling him back to bed, though Eddie wouldn't have gone down at all from all the adrenaline pumping through his tired veins if one of the said nurses hadn't stabbed him in the arm with a sedative.

His head buzzed with the side effects for two days. No thank-you.

Annie popped in with flowers Eddie never wanted, and Dan, the sweet man he was, brought along some expensive chocolates from a place that would have taken one look at the tragedy of Eddie Brock and called the police.

Eddie had never tasted anything sweeter. Good god.

As his mouth savored a rather lovely mix of dark chocolate and pecans, the first twinge jabbed through his abdomen. Eddie dropped the sweet. Then grabbed said sweet before it splattered onto the sterile linoleum as a crime to fine confectionery everywhere.

Except _he_ hadn't meant to catch it.

Oh.

/

Venom stayed quiet for a week. Eddie would have thought the alien was good and dead and that he had imagined the incident in the hospital- the drugs had been _good_ okay- if a flutter didn't make itself known in his gut whenever he ate.

And boy did he eat.

Two hams, a whole chicken, four bags of tater tots (cooked because Eddie had _limits_ ), and most of the candy from the local gas station. All of it made him want to puke, exactly like that first day with Venom causing havoc in his skin because of some _bonding_ mumbo-jumbo, but he held it all down knowing that if Venom was truly well and alive within him then the slime needed the extra energy.

Eddie didn't, however.

Eddie just needed fucking _sleep_.

Which he did in-between the gluttonous displays of inhaled food. Dreams avoided his tired mind, which the man was grateful for. The entire event of the last few weeks had been a staggering mess and if he didn't develop some form of PTSD he would truly be shocked. Again, a _rocket_ had _exploded_ over his head. A _rocket_.

Not to mention the traumatizing knowledge of seeing a close friend dying thanks to a ego-bloated mad scientist.

Oh, and having his body hijacked and sequentially shot at while he drove his bike like a madman right through San Francisco central.

Yeah, _that_ certainly didn't help things.

So yes, sleep and eating became the fundamentals of Eddie's recovering from what he had dubbed 'First Contact From Hell'. Annie checked in on him occasionally, never once mentioning the state of his rented hotel room (look his old place had been cordoned off due to a gun fight and several bodies of which life had left in a hurry), and Eddie appreciated her support. None of the feelings of deep seeded need for her cropped up, the need of having someone who had his back, who would always be there for him, to love and to hold (and maybe some of the sexier stuff if he was honest), but mostly for an emotional column to rest on.

A friend. An actual person on this planet who liked Eddie for _Eddie_.

He didn't tell her about the nauseating amount of food he had consumed. Skipped right over the part where his abdomen lurched as if a baby were playing soccer in his guts. Eddie had no reason to why he never spoke up about his suspicions. About how Venom might still be hanging on inside of him. Needing Eddie like Eddie needed Anne. No, Eddie kept his mouth shut and put on his best straight face smile and pretended everything was hunky-dory and soon all of them would be moving past this whatever awful experience they had just gone through.

Like a _normal_ life could be possible.

Hah. What a load of bull hockey. Alien were real, okay, and all of them had seen first hand the destruction that knowledge caused. People _died_. People he _knew_ died. Humanity seemed not to be ready for something as amazing as extraterrestrial life. They fucked it up, just like _everything else_ they did, and in the end it had brought nothing but pain and death and a giant hole in what could have possibly been a scientific breakthrough. Aliens just fucking _sucked_.

Except, well, not for Eddie.

He had Venom.

And Venom was snug and safe within his stomach and Eddie was going to make _damn_ sure nothing ever hurt the ball of goo ever again.

/

When Venom spoke up for the first time, Eddie almost pissed himself.

People weren't built for hearing voices inside their heads. This is a fact. When people heard voices they were deemed crazy, insane, iand n desperate need for psychiatric help. They're programmed to reject notions of unexplained phenomena, because the knowledge of the opposite meant spending the rest of their days downing copious amounts of pills and ranting to tired and worn out doctors. Eddie didn't want to deal with doctors. Except maybe Dan. Maybe.

He had been happily sitting on his couch watching the fuzzy static over-layed on a soap opera -Greta better _think again_ on cheating on Ben or _so help Eddie_ \- when a soft as wind chimes tickle of sound crossed his mind. He shook his head. Water in his ears. Stupid cheap hotel shower.

But it happened again.

This time with words.

 **Eddie** _ **. Here**_ **.**

Yeah, almost pissing, no denying that. Better than knocking himself unconscious in his tub like a fucking _loser_. _God_ , Eddie.

Once his poor heart stopped doing laps, Eddie swallowed a lump that had lodged itself in his throat, and took a deep breath.

"Venom?"

A beat.

 **Yes. We are here.**

Eddie had never been so relieved in his entire life.

/

Turns out Venom had been weakened considerably by the rocket explosion and only a small piece managed to hang onto Eddie as the man crashed into the waves. A bubble of consciousness no bigger than a pea. That pea started to grow, like a web of fungus through Eddie's circulatory system, sucking up nutrients to feed his shattered self. Cravings so fierce Eddie actually almost bit a man on the cable car on his way home from the hospital.

What a whack job.

Now Venom occupied a much larger space within Eddie, sloshing around his guts and latching onto every last bit of energy he could get his grubby little feelers on. Using some of that energy to work on repairing the rest of Eddie's injuries -he was a _responsible_ parasite get that right. He only manifested himself as a puddle of inky slime in Eddie's hand, a pair of small crescent white eyes staring up at the human in a manner Eddie _almost_ found cute.

(Like _totally_ cute don't even lie to yourself, Eddie).

Eddie found amusement in popping tater tot pieces into the itty-bitty mouth, rubbing Venom's squishy head like he would a kitten. Or a lizard. What? Seeing Venom, a hulking space creature that had _literally_ torn heads off bodies, reduced to this tiny smidgen of goo? Hell _yeah_ that was amusing. _Hysterical_ even.

Venom bit his finger when Eddie vocalized his amusement.

Little shit.

But now Eddie had his odd friend back and he's not alone and that's just _wonderful_. All of it seemed like a bad dream, one that surely would wake him up in a cold night in the future, again, _traumatizing time_ , but with a squishy ball of alien in his palm? That sure as hell made it worth it.

And if Eddie tried really hard he could see how ridiculous this all was. And he didn't care. Add this onto his list of things that made him a human disaster, fuck it, _why not_. Like he could get any worse. A deadbeat ex-reporter who's only real friends were his ex-fiancee, her boyfriend, and a bundle of goo that vibrated when he stroked its head?

Yeah. Ridiculous as fuck, but certainly all Eddie could _ever_ want.

/

Mornings still sucked. His pillow couldn't get any scratchier, the bare bones blanket was like sleeping under a live sheep, and the scent of lemon pledge scalded his nostrils every time he breathed in. Sirens were his alarm clock, and uncomfortable stares from the head desk were his good mornings.

Oh. No. Eddie took that back.

 **Eddie. Eddie. Eddie.**

A smile crossed his stubble covered face and Eddie rolled over to peek an eye open. The dark blob bobbing in front of him grinned wider, leaning down to nuzzle his cheek. Eddie lazily patted it and yawned, no hurry to be anywhere else.

"Good morning, Vee."

Venom purred, teeth scraping over Eddie's rough skin in the gentlest manner a hunk of alien slime could manage.

 **Good morning, Eddie.**

Maybe mornings would become his favorite time of day again. _This_ he could certainly get used to...

And sure, he would forever be a human tragedy, but at least he wouldn't be alone.

/

End.

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